


Am I Never Going to Live This Down?

by hopelessbookgeek



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, GTA AU, M/M, Total garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessbookgeek/pseuds/hopelessbookgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time I met Jeremy Dooley, I knew he would break my heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Am I Never Going to Live This Down?

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written Jerematt before. I don't know what I'm doing. Hope you enjoy!

The first time I met Jeremy Dooley, I knew he would break my heart.

And it sounded odd, even to myself. Ryan Haywood, he could be a heartbreaker, with shoulders wide as the Texas sky and eyes even bluer. Geoff Ramsey, with a smile that came a lot easier to his mouth than to his eyes. Gavin Free, with lightning crackling in his voice and his eyes and the simmering sensuality in every movement of his long, lithe body.

But Jeremy? Jeremy was sweet to me. Jeremy was small and cute and always seemed to be smiling. He was shorter than me and rested his head on my shoulder and pretended to show off his muscles whenever he could. He bought pancakes for me and always acted like he made them himself and feigned irritability when I pointed out that he handed them to me in the IHOP takeout box.

Of course, I didn’t know all that about him when I met him. I didn’t know anything about him. I knew only his first name and the way his hand clasped mine when we shook our hellos, and yet somehow I knew that he would break my heart.

At first, because of that first instinct, I hesitated to get to know him, but he was so persistently just _sweet_ that I didn’t really have a choice and I fell for him the same way I did everything: hard and fast and recklessly. When every day is live or die, there’s no point to pretending that you don’t feel the way you do or want the things you want. I mean, I didn’t say them out loud, obviously, but I didn’t lie to myself. That was a welcome change to my behavior once I joined the Crew.

I’d almost forgotten my fears by the time we got around to a big heist, the first in a while. When we came through, we, as we always did, took the influx of relief and translated it into passion, and the Crew split off into pairs. Jack and Geoff disappeared for what once would have been raucous lovemaking and was probably now handjobs and cuddling, although Geoff gave head better than anyone on Earth. Ryan stole Gavin away before they started tearing their clothes off in the living room, even though they were bloody and bruised and scratched to hell. Michael and Lindsay took a long shower together and came out giggling before disappearing into their own bedroom.

I showered in the other bathroom of Geoff’s penthouse and took a moment to, like, comb my hair, make sure my beard was in order. I wore a bathrobe (with nothing underneath) but didn’t bother to try and hide the scrapes on my face and arms. Scars were badges of honor. By the time I came out, the only one left was Ray, asleep on the couch. I dropped down beside him and he jolted awake. “Not one for the celebrations, then?” I teased, and he shook his head. He and Ryan had a weird thing on-and-off, but Ray was always too tired after a heist for even the adrenaline to make him want sex. “Where are… the others?” I couldn’t bring myself to ask after Jeremy directly. He and I had never paired off, but I’d always hoped.

“Jack and Geoff already asleep. Michael very loudly going down on Lindsay. Ryan gagged Gavin about ten minutes ago, thank God. I think Jeremy’s in there with them too, actually.” 

I tried not to show my unhappiness at that news. “Oh, good for them,” I managed, and had Ray not been so tired he might have caught on to how strained and disappointed I sounded, but he was that tired and so he nodded and settled his head back on the arm of the couch like a dozy cat.

I didn’t really know what to do after that. My limbs felt heavy and my head felt thick and I might have thought myself tired except that I knew, if I lay down, I couldn’t sleep. It was like my body was tired– and after the pounding it got, I was sure it was– but my mind wasn’t. That was a weird feeling.

I left him there sleeping and went into the kitchen to pour a finger of whiskey. Geoff wouldn’t be happy if he noticed– it was his best– but fuck that, we’d completed a heist alive and well, and the guy I loved was banging someone else. There wasn’t a difference between celebratory whiskey and consolation whiskey, far as I could tell. I toasted myself and tossed the whiskey back in one burning sip.

I didn’t cry. I could have, probably; emotions always ran high after a heist, and relief was weird like that. No one was awake or inclined to call me a bitch for it, so I could have, but instead I pounded back another glass of whiskey and sat at the kitchen counter and thought about Jeremy’s grin, the way his broad hands looked gripping an assault rifle. Maybe that was a weird thing to focus on in a guy. It worked for me.

I had no idea how long I sat there. It felt like hours, and maybe it was. The whiskey definitely wasn’t helping that. I could hear Ray snoring in the living room, the tick-tick of the clock behind me that I didn’t bother to turn around and look at, the rumble of the fridge doing whatever the fuck makes fridges make that noise.

From where I was sat, I could see Ryan’s bedroom door, and eventually it opened and Jeremy stepped out like he was trying to be quiet. He obviously hadn’t showered given how dirty and bloody he was, and somewhere he’d lost his shirt, and if my heart hadn’t already been broken, it would have broke just then.

He didn’t see me, so I left the empty glass on the counter and moved quietly across the kitchen to my bedroom. We could talk about this tomorrow, or maybe never. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, but my world was spinning and I realized I was drunker than I thought, so when I stumbled into bed I passed out pretty quick and that was that.

Avoiding Jeremy the next day was easy. Everyone on the day after a heist was drunk or hungover, recovering from injuries, or catching up on sleep. I slept til around three in the afternoon, which definitely helped. Avoiding him the days after that was harder; he started actively looking for me, and I took to taking long walks around the neighborhood just to get out of the house.

One morning, four or five days after the heist, I stood out on the balcony smoking. It was early, maybe five, and the sun was just coming up. It was chilly, misty and pink, but peaceful. Los Santos could be pretty sometimes. “You’ve been avoiding me,” Jeremy’s voice said behind me, and I jumped, dropping my cigarette off the balcony.

“Jesus Christ, Jeremy, you scared me.” I didn’t look at him, just lit another cigarette. He came over to stand at my side, leaning against the railing.

“How come you’ve been avoiding me?”

I really wanted to say that I hadn’t been, but he always knew when I was lying, and anyway, I was tired. It was too early and I’d missed him. I blew out a ring of smoke to buy more time. “I saw you come out of Ryan’s room after the heist,” I mumbled.

It took him a second to answer. “Is that what you thought we were doing?”

“Was it not?” That was what Ray said, right?

“I got hurt on the heist. I didn’t notice for a while– adrenaline, y’know– but when I realized I didn’t want anyone to know. I was in there while he stitched me up. Here, look.”

I looked at him finally and he lifted his shirt, revealing a jagged wound like an appendix scar, carefully stitched up, obviously by Ryan’s hand– he’d had the most practice, and his stitches were the neatest. “You were shirtless,” I said, and he shook his head and dropped his shirt back in place.

“I got blood on it. I’ll be washing it.” He cocked his head and grinned. “Were you jealous?”

“If I wanted to have sex with Ryan, I would have.”

“Not of me, of Ryan. Were you getting jealous thinking about him getting fucked by me?”

_Shit_. It wasn’t just that he was right– but, oh, he was– but I’d never heard sweet Jeremy talk about fucking anyone before, especially not in those vulgar terms. It stirred something inside me, not least of which surprise that Ryan would be the one getting fucked. I didn’t answer that. “So you and Ryan weren’t, but you _have_?”

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No.” Yes. I mean, if he wanted to have sex with Ryan, that was fine. I didn’t care that it was with him. I just didn’t like thinking of anyone else holding him, touching him, being touched _by_ him… “When was the last time?”

“Maybe three weeks ago. So I’m right, aren’t I?”

I didn’t want to tell him that he was, but I didn’t know how else to say it, and I couldn’t avoid the question forever. “If I say yes, am I never going to live this down?”

“No, I won’t tell anyone.” He pulled his own pack of cigarettes from his pocket and motioned for me to light one. “When I say that Ryan and I had sex three weeks ago, that’s not quite right. He’s got his thing with Gavin, y’know, and I think it’s getting serious, and we can usually just forget that to get off, but I couldn’t, and I had to apologize and say I couldn’t manage it because I wanted someone else too badly.”

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? “Yeah?” I said casually, or I tried to sound casual, but my voice came out all strained with hope.

“Yeah,” he said, and his voice was almost shy.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he meant _want_ only affectionately or sexually or what, so I assumed the latter and hoped for the former. “Well, Jeremy, if you want we can grab a shower and you can tell me all about wanting, how’s that sound?”

His eyes snapped with light, blazing brighter than Ryan or Geoff ever had, and his laugh was sharp and warm. “God, Matty, I love you.” He looked embarrassed as soon as he said it. “I– I mean–”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that. Love you too, J.” He swept me into a kiss, strong and sure, and he tasted like cigarette smoke and I was pretty sure I did too but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter at all.

“How about that shower?” he murmured against my mouth, and I’d never followed anyone so willingly.


End file.
